


Contact

by sfumatosoup



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Accidental Exhibitionism, Angst, Everyone is an idiot, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Garak is not really okay, Garak is suspicious of the cutlery, Gay Sex, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pining, Post-Episode: s04e10 Our Man Bashir, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, Temper Tantrums, Touching, he's way too in love with his Doctor, purple aliens as a plot device, under the table touches, what if that utensil was a changeling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-01 08:52:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10918470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sfumatosoup/pseuds/sfumatosoup
Summary: Julian is in an awkward situation with an amorous queen on an odd planet he and Garak have accidentally been 'wormholed' to, and so he fabricates a relationship between them to save face with the queen which results in an argument and...feelings surface.





	1. Chapter 1

“I have just as much at stake, Garak, don’t ask me to do what you cant,” Julian exclaimed, with a plaintive note catching the edge of the challenge in his tone; his hands curled into tight fists at his sides, the flash of his dark beautiful eyes impassioned—

_ Oh, _ Garak was  _ doomed,  _ and he knew it. The doctor had pushed and pushed and now it would all come spilling out: every carefully concealed and long-suppressed desire, every secret, shameful fantasy and heretofore unexpressed longing to give his entire heart to this maddening,  _ insufferable,  _ lovely, gentle, exquisite man.

And it would likely decimate every dream Garak had ever held dear and drive away the only man in this entire, accursed universe he dearly longed to hold—

Perhaps he should start over from the beginning.

Perhaps reflecting back over the series of events that had brought them to this point would provide something of a renewed sense of clarity. Perhaps, if he could just pinpoint exactly where everything started to slide down that slippery slope he could—

Well, he couldn't do much. Once the boulder starts tumbling down the mountain, it's not as if it can simply be freeze-framed midway and gently reset back upon its summit. Garak was a man whom could boast many a skill, but unfortunately, nowhere among his vast repertoire could he find the ability to travel back in time.

Still...when one is about to make the most momentous, earth-shattering mistake of their entire, miserable life, it helps to have some semblance of perspective going forward.

Garak supposed all this grief could be traced back to the first day they met, when Garak had first introduced himself to the enchanting young man sitting alone, minding his own business, eating his lunch in the replimat as if it were any other afternoon...

Hm.

Well, perhaps that's going back  _ too  _ far.

... _ Ah,  _ well. Since he's reminisced back to this marker in time, he may as well finish the thought. If it helps to know, it was the precise moment their eyes first met when Garak first knew, that without a shadow of a doubt, there was nowhere he'd rather be than right here under the doctor's intent, all-consuming focus. All at once, in less than half a second, he'd felt the cold, long dormant thing beneath his breastplate wake and tremble, and it was as if the air had been sucked from his lungs, captured as he was like a guttfish tangled in the fisherman's net. He'd realized in that single instance:  _ this man is going to be my ruin... _

_...and I can't wait! _

Garak would go on to chase that feeling, learning just what could make the young man smile or scowl, dutifully making note of what could make him go quiet and contemplative—and then what exactly he could do to tease him back out of his shell into a frenzy of rage or excitement. He was so refreshingly reactive! It wasn't difficult to manipulate the strings of the marionette, but he hadn't anticipated how dynamic and vast his pet puppet could be. It was great fun to toy with his new friend, for the first time in  _ years, _ he had something to look forward to among the glum, mundane routine of his every day existence in exile... and then one day, out of the blue, it had occurred to Garak that the doctor had upgraded to something more than 'interesting plaything' to 'genuine-friend-he-earnestly-cared-about-in-spite-of-his-better-judgment'. All the warning signs were there, all the groundwork had already been laid, he just didn't want to see it.  _ Tain had warned him against sentiment.  _ This was why.

Oh, he had been so arrogant! He'd thought, to  _ this _ , I am immune. I can move, mold and manipulate anyone or anything, but  _ I _ am immovable. All it had taken was the friendship of one, brilliant, bright-eyed young man to corrupt his programming—decades of training and flawless control, all thrown over the gate to the hounds and torn to shreds. The thing was unsalvageable. It was too late. He'd been carried away offshore by the tide of Julian Bashir.

He was in love! He wanted to shout it from the top of docking pylon three! He wanted to throw himself off the top of docking pylon three!  _ How had he let this happen? _

Why, from that first moment they met, had he ever thought he wanted this—that it would be a good thing? Being in love was—not something that had ever happened to him in his near four-and-a-half cycles and he had no idea it was going to feel this  _ dreadful. _ And if he'd wanted advice? Well, the doctor, although nearly fifteen years his junior, certainly had ample enough experience in that department—the young man only fell in love nearly every other week, after all!

However, this clever lad was a  _ clever  _ lad, and the risk was far too great. It would be all too easy for the young man to simply give it a few seconds thought one night to put it all together, and Garak could only imagine his look of shocked disgust and disappointment. What could a young, vibrant, brilliant, well-liked and handsome human man with a penchant for slight, pretty young women want with an old, washed up, Cardassian male with a dubious-at-best past? Likely very little outside of their one-hour, once-a-week lunch in the replimat. Anything else would be a gross presumption for Garak to even imagine! Oh, it would be a  _ disaster _ if he knew! Garak had languished late at night, dwelling over the way the scenario would play out. It would go one of two ways: Julian would harshly reject him and terminate their friendship or he would he would politely, uncomfortably and gently let him down (which would be certain to shatter Garak's heart in a million different irreparable ways he didn't even dare to think of) and their friendship would inevitably decline toward its natural death likely sooner than later. The latter scenario was by far the least palatable. Garak could muscle through a short sharp burst of pain, but he couldn't stomach  _ pity. _

Ah, but too little too late, as they say, the whole thing was a lost cause, because Julian, curious creature that he was, seemed to enjoy his company, and since the feeling was more than mutual on Garak's end, greedy creature that  _ he  _ was, if the young man's fancy of the moment was chatting over lunch with Garak, Garak would be there every time, on the dot.

...Oh!

Now here's another thought! Perhaps, everything could be blamed on that day last year when the revelation of Julian's status as an augment had at last come to light! Yes. Everything had changed after that because Julian Bashir was no longer silly, impetuous Julian Bashir blundering haphazardly through life like he had no concept of common-sense, no, now he was wry, slightly more cynical, calculating, dangerously clever Julian Bashir, and Garak had suddenly realized that Julian had always known far more than he'd let on. Surely, he knew of his friend's unfortunate, heart condition—the one where his mere proximity would simply set the poor muscle off into paroxysmal overload.

How Garak even functioned sometimes was beyond him! Oh, he was such a besotted old fool. But, this besotted old fool was now a besotted old fool with hope. If Julian knew—which he surely did, and he'd still sought Garak's company all this time, peacocking about for Garak's fawning adulation, preening under his attention with those teasing eyes and mysterious microexpressions Garak never dared let himself decipher...well then! That suggested something suggestive.

So, he'd decided:  _ Let's see where this goes. _

Garak relaxed a little of his guard a little at a time and let his dear friend see that  _ yes, _ he was  _ very fond of him.  _ He became more openly attentive, pursued his company with less casual nonchalance, increased the frequency of their physical contact and allowed those tiny touches to linger—nothing  _ too  _ indiscreet, but enough to exhibit the nature of his interest: a caress of a wrist, a hand in the crook of his elbow, a knee left to fall carelessly against the doctor's, a stroke down his chest to smooth his uniform, a soft glide of fingertips along his collar bone as he'd pretend to straighten his collar, a gentle squeeze of his shoulder upon greeting...and he made  _ every excuse  _ to touch the young man who didn't shy away from the contact, who didn't quite acknowledge it in any overt physical or verbal way, or even reciprocate of his own accord, but allowed it to continue from Garak's end, and even at times allowed a small hint of pleasure to slip for a second into a smile that said: I don't  _ hate  _ it when you forget your hand on my person for too long.

Sometimes that smile seemed to say:  _ more. _

Permission granted, Garak teased and provoked and let his eyes roam carelessly over the young man with frank, open appreciation and sometimes, in the dark corner booth of a restaurant, Garak's hand might drift down beneath the tablecloth to stroke along an inner seam—just the barest tips of his fingers would drag very slowly and very softly, retracing over its invisible path, a seemingly innocent, unconscious thing, and Garak would keep talking—sometimes almost nonsensically, anything to distract his companion from becoming  _ too  _ aware of what he was doing, and Julian would look just a bit too warm; a little  _ too _ flustered and there would be something in his posture that said:  _ my self-restraint is slipping,  _ and a brightness of arousal in those chocolate-hazel eyes beneath those heavy, half-mast lids. The frisson sparked and danced, electric and dangerous and  _ oh,  _ he  _ burned for Julian  _ and Julian was so unconsciously responsive—he trembled and shivered beneath Garak's delicate ministrations, beneath his careful touch engineered to seem innocuous and choreographed to melt every bone in the young man's body.

Julian's end of the conversation would taper off at times, replaced by soft, breathy laughs to cover accidental slips of shaky sighs and when he would try to carry on with the pretense of conversation, just because the game of it all was far more exciting when it was illicit like this, the register of his voice would drop several octaves and become a rich, delicious, dulcet thing as smooth as butter-silk. He knew just how to select a word to code it with subtext; to infuse it with that subtle, sensual flourish of suggestion; where to place just the right emphasis at just the right frequency for it to materialize into near tangibility and stroke a blazing trail along all the most intimate corners of Garak's body.

Sometimes Julian would sag down in his seat a little and Garak's hand, would, incidentally draw up a little further along his inner thigh—just the lightest thing—something that could, in an instant be played off as 'nothing at all', even though Garak knew how very easy it would be to simply trip his finger tips up those few final centimeters into the furnace of forbidden heat radiating between his legs...

Then, if he was feeling particularly daring, perhaps he might allow a wandering finger to sweep small circles just next that crease in the folds of Julian's pants between the junction of his inner thigh and groin, and Julian's breath would catch and hold in anticipation...

And Garak would then remember to take a bite of his dinner or lift his glass for a sip of kanar and he would smile to himself victoriously, watching from the corner of his eye the young man's soft frustrated sigh and slight grimace...the way he would pretend to fix his napkin on his lap while very  _ very  _ discreetly fixing the problem in his pants—just a gentle, quick adjustment so nothing would be too terribly indecent looking...

_  
Ah, digression!   
_  
Somewhat poorly timed considering present circumstances, but certainly a pleasant reverie—if not likely to be the last of its kind...or variety anyway. The memory would be preserved, cherished and often replayed, but for now, he would tuck it neatly back in the secure archives of his mind; the place he keeps all those snippets of Julian—sentimental fodder for the moments of piercing loneliness and longing and sinful fodder for those desperate moments by himself late at night.

But, that era of adding to that private, precious cache would soon be coming to an end. Why? Because dancing around taking a dear friend to bed and making it into some exciting secret game is vastly different from never getting that far before exclaiming overwhelming declarations of love to that same dear friend. Garak might not have much practical relationship experience (or any for that matter), but he knew that much.  

TBC...  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Fast forward a month from the Last Supper and skip back two days.

On Doctor Bashir's recommendation, and after much urging, Garak had joined him on one of his rare recreational excursions off station. Although, to be quite fair, when it came to the good doctor, it rarely took  _ too  _ much convincing for Garak to finally cave and go along with whatever madcap schemes the young man had up his sleeve—which frankly, Garak was of the mind to feel justifiably put out about. It was all really rather unfair. After all, no grown man over the Doctor's age had any right to be able to effectively use such juvenile antics to get his way. All he had to do was flash those believably guileless, pleading, 'puppy-dog' eyes—(as he'd heard Jadzia refer to them as) up at him, and Garak would be sighing in defeat and acquiescing before he even knew what he was acquiescing to.

If only Julian Bashir wasn't such a extraordinarily  _ attractive _ man. If only his mind were a little less sharp and his eyes a little less warm...then perhaps Garak would have a fighting chance. The whole package was an irresistible one and it gave Julian such a  _ dangerous  _ advantage—one the young man knew of, regularly relied upon and remorselessly employed time and again to Garak's immense misfortune.

Which was why they were now stuck on this godforsaken, backwater planet in this intolerable situation...

_ Well,  _ then again, perhaps the freak cosmic storm that had appeared out of the ether chucking their shuttle pod clear across the sector—quadrant— _ galaxy? _ ...had  _ something  _ to do with it.

Garak groaned inwardly as Julian shifted back a little on his lap. Didn't the man have any sense of compassion? He certainly had very little in the way of decency. Despite his better judgment, Garak's eyes flicked down to the lap sitting on his own and cringed at the way the Doctor's tunic rode up, baring those bite-able, slender-muscled, golden thighs—

_ What had he done to deserve this torture? _

Hm. Well...perhaps he could recall one or two less than wholly admirable deeds from his past that might warrant a trifle more than a mere slap on the wrist, but hadn't all of that been done in the name of civic duty? It's not as if he’d taken  any especial pleasure in their enterprise.

However, considering his present circumstances, maybe the universe really was sentient, and perhaps it had, in its eternal boredom; its haughty and capricious spite, said: why  _ not _ have a laugh at pathetic old Garak?

And thus, here he was, subjected to suffer the merciless and delicious squirming of the oblivious love of his life's bottom wriggling about in his lap in front of an entire court of jeering onlookers. By the spectacle the Doctor was making of himself—and by association, his unhappy companion, Garak was beginning to suspect the young man of bearing some kind of latent exhibitionist tendencies.

Because  _ honestly, _ either Julian really was just  _ that _ thick, or, he was taking some kind of perverse pleasure in tormenting him. 

_ Seriously! _ Could he not simply be a good boy and stay put on the edge of Garak's knees like he was supposed to? Had he no sense of decorum or modesty? Did he have even the slightest conception of what he was doing to his poor, beleaguered accomplice?

( _ Hah!  _ More like 'patsy' _ , _ if Garak was going to be honest about it.)

So, how had this all come to pass?

The mysterious storm had clearly swept them off course—but the rest was hazy. When he'd first awoke, his first thought upon opening his eyes had been:  _ find Julian! _

Panicked, he'd bolted upright, scanning his surroundings, heedless of them until he'd located his quarry.  _ Ah,  _ there he was, laid out on a nearby bed, the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath his blanket suggesting he was only fast asleep and to all appearances unharmed. Thusly reassured, he ran a quick self-evaluation which revealed that he'd somehow been freshly dressed and bathed—a disturbing revelation that turned his stomach and made his sphincter reflexively clench at the perceived, potential violation.

The next order of business was to run inventory on their current situation. A sweep of the opulent room and it's foreign adornments conveyed they were clearly not on the station and likely far from home. Their beds they were laid in were surprisingly luxurious and they were surrounded in every imaginable comfort…

Garak had initially thought to stir the Doctor, to try to hatch a quick plan of escape—but then, interrupting this endeavor, the arched doors opened to admit several quiet attendants. Garak watched ill at ease, pretending to sleep as they silently slipped around to tend to their...patients? Guests? Prisoners?

Tensed and ready to spring to action, he waited out their visit, his hammering heart threatening to betray him as they congregated around his bed to...plump his pillows!

Ah, at least their intentions seemed innocuous enough...perhaps they'd landed on some remote part of Risa colonized by an anachronistically baroque civilization and the intense  _ purple _ he was seeing was merely some after-effect of when he'd smacked his head on the control board as the electro-magnetic storm had rocked their shuttle…

Although...what if the storm had ripped another small wormhole open through the fabric of space and somehow slid them down its chute into an entirely different dimension?

This race seemed unusually intrigued by them, remarking over their peculiar and far less-fuschia pigmentation as well as oohing-and-ahing over Garak's ridges, fondling his scales with wide-eyes and presumptuous hands. This was worrying on many levels, considering what it said about their prospects of ever making it back to DS9, especially since this planet was very clearly pre-warp.

Over the following few days, Garak would make careful inquiries about their technology and they would merely nod at him as if he were speaking in tongues. It was...very discouraging.

Once their attendants had decided they had aptly recovered, they were ushered into a grand hall to meet their gracious hosts. The High Court of the Grand Nimbulor— _ Nimbulor?? _ (their universal translators seemed to be suffering a small malfunction)—welcomed them with a sumptuous feast followed by an evening of entertainment filled with amusing if not somewhat insipid performances of song and dance. Julian had shot a discreet glance at him over their supper as if to ask:  _ how long do we have to put up with this? _

The problem was, every attempt they made to mention their interest in returning home, their gracious host seemed to take umbrage at the thought—and then to make matters worse, she then seemed to take a fancy to Julian. Considering the delicacy of their situation and the delicacy of their host's temper, Julian couldn't outright reject her advances.

It was almost comical how scandalized the poor man looked as the Nimbulor, unabashedly simpered and fawned over him.  _ “Won't you come to my chambers and permit me to lavish you in luxury?”, “I promise you won't be disappointed...”, “I could please you, my pet, as you please me...”  _ etcetera, ad-nausea.

Honestly, Garak realized, all things considered, Julian  _ could _ do worse (and  _ had, _ once or twice!) the woman wasn't hideous by any means...although, perhaps she was a bit...purple. All over. Like the harvest-ready grapes of a good springwine. Still, somewhat to Garak's relief, Julian remained immune to her feminine wiles and brazen overtures. The more the handsy matron cooed and clutched, the more Julian recoiled and cringed until finally, he'd clearly had enough.

“I can't possibly,” Julian demurred, “I am very  _ flattered— _ ”

“Then why protest?” The Nimbulor insisted.

Garak chewed his supper and watched on with mild curiosity, wondering what excuse the Doctor would make up this time to get out of yet another invitation to the Nimbulor's bed.

“The thing is...I'm already spoken for.”

The Nimbulor's eyes narrowed skeptically. “But she isn't here, is she? So why not have a little fun. Nobody had to know,” she argued, slipping her hand inside the open collar of his tunic, stroking her diamond encrusted talons over his pectoral with a seductive leer.

“Oh,  _ Garak  _ would know.”

Garak froze. Oh no. This wasn’t going in the direction he suspected it was...Julian wouldn’t possibly dare...

“So? He won't tell. He's your friend, isn't he? And I'd like to think he's mine as well. Aren't you, Garak, darling?”

Garak smiled tightly, shooting the Doctor a glance of warning. “Of course, Your Magnificence,” he reassured, giving her his most charming grin. (After all, it paid to play favorites with questionably hued alien royalty.)

“Actually,” Julian continued disregarding Garak's warning, “Garak is more than merely my friend. In fact...we're...lovers.”

Garak's hand fumbled its grip on his eating utensil and the thing went clattering down to his plate. The entire court stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at him.  _ Careless!  _ Functioning on emergency auto-pilot while his brain stuttered and bawked over Julian's audacious, bold (and sadly untrue) claim, Garak swept a glance around the room, taking mental note of the court's mixed expressions of outrage and horror. For a second he wasn't sure whether they were reacting to the Doctor's announcement or the infraction against their sense of etiquette, somehow terribly dismayed by his clear disregard for their tableware…

Garak frowned as a disconcerting notion came to mind. What if this technologically stunted, insulated race was some kind of Dominion protectorate...or  _ worse,  _ a preservation kept by the Founders! What if these people were all their decoys and he and Julian had been purposefully abducted for study? That could mean…

Feeling suddenly very disturbed, Garak very carefully and very gingerly, laid down his peculiar cutlery and stared at it suspiciously.

“Is this true, Garak?” The Nimbulor demanded, drawing his attention back to the matter at hand.

He gave her a practiced, easy smile. “Is what true?” he blinked up, feigning ignorance—not in the least bit eager to confirm his idiot Doctor's ludicrous ruse.

He could feel Julian's piercing stare but refrained from meeting his eyes.

“Are you indeed...'lovers'?” She asked, drawing a hand up her pet's thigh.

Julian shot Garak a pleading look bordering on desperation:  _ Save me! _

Garak sighed, dragging an exasperated hand down his face. 

_ Perhaps he should let the man suffer a bit longer. _

How dare Julian take this fragile thing between them—this thing he wasn't even brave enough to put a semblance of words to, then turn around and bandy it about as some convenient device to spare him from some roving magenta hands? Especially when he could have certainly spared Garak (whom he owed more respect to than this), and simply found some other pretext to preserve his modesty.

Garak stared back at his companion flatly, conveying his utter disapproval before returning his attention to the Nimbulor. “It's not quite as cut and dry as that,” he replied.

Julian gawked at him incredulously:  _ you utter ass! _

“Oh, so you don't mind if I play with your pet?” The Nimbulor grinned as she playfully slid a hand up under his tunic. Julian's mortification was not reflected in the unfazed expressions of the court, who clearly were neither surprised nor scandalized by their leader's amorous public display. 

Garak appraised the situation objectively. Certainly, they didn't want to offend their host—their only potential key to freedom, but Julian was not willing to sacrifice his body for the cause. This time.

_ This time? _ That was a bitter, petty little thought! 

However...on the other hand, perhaps this suggested Garak had some hope yet!

Coming to a decision, he scooted out his chair, pushed it back in politely, gave the cutlery one last speculative glance and made his way around the table. 

“Madam,” he smiled graciously, “I would owe you an immense debt of gratitude if you would kindly cease your pursuit in this regard.” In other words:  _ take your periwinkle paws off my property. _

The Nimbulor's presumptuous purchase on her pet remained for a solid second before she at last saw that her challenger would not back down. Finally, reluctantly, her proprietary grip seemed to slacken and Garak swept in to rescue his stupid little twit from the groping grape's clutches.

Julian grinned at him like the proverbial cat who got the cream and Garak released a long-suffering sigh.

For days, the tantalizing, reckless little tart had pranced about as they carried on with this hapless farce; teasing, taunting and otherwise torturing his poor, hopelessly adoring companion with little regard to the consequences—unheeding of the warnings and unmindful of the risks he was taking with Garak's quickly diminishing self-control. Inch by inch he'd worn away at it as if he had some kind of imprudent wish hearkening to his ancient Sabine's. How many times, at the end of a particularly excruciating evening had Garak's shackles nearly snapped—how close had the unwitting, over-trusting prey come to uncaging the snarling, savage predator within, ravenous to tear into his silken, supple flesh? Oh, and  _ how  _ Garak would feast! How he would rend him limb-from-limb, taking him apart bit-by-agonizing-bit until he was little more than a mindless, quivering thing, whimpering and writhing under Garak's expert touch—how he would make the young man twitch and moan until he was sobbing Garak's name like an epithet into the sheets,  _ begging _ for the sweet mercy of release!

How often would they stumble back to their guest-suite together, Julian still clinging to him; his sweltering heat penetrating through the thin, perfunctory fabric of his frippery, pressed as he was so closely against Garak's side—and oh, had the temptation threatened! It would be altogether too easy for Garak to simply forget himself for the merest fraction of a second to commit the ultimate, unforgivable sin; to surrender to a simple, single kiss, but this kiss, he knew, would surely be the kiss of death, sure to immolate the only thing he longed to preserve— And for  _ what? _ A fleeting, one-time fling? A frantic, clumsy tumble in the sheets never to be repeated except for in his mind in those lonely moments in the middle of the night?

So. Here they were, having to...essentially  _ perform _ for the court, to prove the validity of their 'relationship'... and the whole thing was really quite trying, particularly as Julian continued to yammer on, unaware of Garak's growing predicament.

“— _ And,  _ I said, well, if it's only a post-ganglionic nerve then why shouldn't a simple re-sequencing—”

_ Oh,  _ was Garak  _ painfully _ aroused, and if Julian shuffled any further backwards, the utter idiot would surely become quite unmistakably alerted to the fact. Still, in spite of their audience and a touch self-destructively, there was that small—well, actually fairly sizable (mind,  _ not that he was boasting _ ) libidinous part of Garak that kind of hoped he might—

—because to feel, just for a second, the glorious weight of his beloved's warmth pressed down on his throbbing, _aching_ groin—to be given just a hint of what it could be like to sink into that glorious, inviting heat—

_ Oh, was this unbearable! _

Garak had nearly had all he could conceivably endure and if this infuriating little fool wasn't careful, he'd find himself unceremoniously dumped to the floor in another half-second. Thus, when finally they were no longer in the direct focus of their hosts, Garak seized the opportunity to lean forward and whisper his reproach.

“ _ Would you kindly desist your fidgeting? _ ”

Julian craned around just enough to glance at him with a scathing glare. “ _ Are you serious? You think this is all 'fun-and-games' for me? _ ” he hissed back defensively, “At least  _ you  _ get a chair. My back is  _ killing _ me.”

Garak's level of sheer indignation could not be measured. He rose from his seat just enough to shove the Doctor pointedly from his lap back to his knees, and Julian, having none of this, scooted forcefully back, his bottom colliding into certain parts of Garak's anatomy that sent shockwaves of agonized bliss coursing through him. And unbidden, a small moan tumbled out of him.

For a second, he froze, not daring to breathe, waiting in terror for Julian’s reaction. 

Julian huffed a small laugh. “ _ Is that what’s got your knickers in a twist _ ,” he chuckled, turning his head just enough to give Garak an amused lift of an eyebrow.   

Garak’s eyes narrowed.  _ Don’t toy with me, Doctor.  _ Vengefully, he smoothed his hand up Julian’s thigh, which proceeded to hike up his tunic enough that it would have provided quite an eyeful to their dining companions had there not been a table involved. Julian tensed but made no movement to stop him and Garak leaned forward, pressing his lips to the shell of the young man’s ear. “ _ And what of yours, my dear? _ ” he whispered, giving a quick, sharp pinch to the sensitive nerve cluster between his groin and thigh.    

This achieved the desired effect and Julian’s back arched, a small surprised squeak slipping from the moue of his lips. This awarded Garak a vindictive elbow aimed for his his gut—deftly deflected by simply sliding his left arm around the young man's waist. “ _ Stop it, _ ” Garak hissed, “ _ You're making a scene. _ ”

Julian hiccuped a small breath of frustration and Garak felt him shiver. “That hurt, you ass!” 

“But it doesn’t anymore, does it,” Garak replied softly through a grin hidden against his companion’s back, manipulating the abused flesh of the young man’s thigh in a gentle massage that pulled a shaky whimper from him. Julian tilted back a bit, just enough for Garak to hear his reply: “ _ It still hurts a little. _ ”

The alarm bells went off in the back of his head saying:  _ Stop! Wait! Don’t! _

But, a step or two past carried away in their game, Garak nuzzled the back of Julian’s shoulder with his chin, allowing his nose and lips to graze over the smooth expanse of his neck, scenting him. His hand, still resting between the young man’s legs resumed their ministrations and he felt Julian tremble in his lap leaning back into his touch....

Ah, it could not have looked innocent, but no one seemed to be watching too closely and the rest of the crowd may as well have vanished anyway. He was only here with his beloved inside a bubble of their combined lust. To Garak’s astonishment, his curious fingers discovered silky curls of hair rather than any cloth undergarment barrier as he’d expected and in response, his cock pulsed with excitement. He groaned into Julian’s shoulder, shaking as he tremulously explored the downy fur so uncommon among his own kind that on Julian it was a rare and exotic thing he yearned to bury his face in. 

Were they even playing anymore? Did he even need to form any pretext to touch what he most longed to touch? What could he possibly say to explain why his fist should wrap around the firm heat of the young man’s sex? 

Experimentally, pretending he was still immersed in only providing his dear friend with this prolonged, apologetic massage, he allowed his knuckles to brush against the underside of his straining flesh. Julian gasped and wantonly pushed forward into his palm. “ _ Garak, _ ” he breathed…

“ _ Yes, my dear? _ ” 

“ _ Please, _ ” Julian groaned, turning to bury his face under Garak’s chin. 

“Here?” Garak asked, in moderate disbelief at himself, at Julian--at the entire situation that had gotten truly quite out of hand--while, ironically, quite _in_   hand. 

In response, Julian canted forward his hips, pressing his needy arousal once more against Garak’s stalling hand and because, once again, he could never deny this beautiful creature anything he desired, Garak closed his fingers around him and in the middle of supper, in front of at least a few dozen purple aliens and silverware that may or may not have been changeling spies, slowly and discreetly he pulled Julian to orgasm, and as the young man rocked against his trapped sex, Garak reached his own release, spilling shamefully into his pants.

Julian sagged back against him and Garak sighed, wrapping his arms around his waist, holding him there, as if he belonged to him; as if he could keep him. “You exquisite, wanton thing,” he whispered in a breathy chuckle against his darling’s ear. “What am I going to do with you.”

It was a remonstration more than a question, and a question more than a promise, because frankly, as Garak sat there, keenly aware of the messy slick in his pants; and as he pulled his hand back out from between Julian’s thighs to wipe off the sticky evidence onto his companion’s dinner napkin, he realized that this was it. 

  
They could no longer avoid talking about it.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy! The 3rd chapter finally happened!
> 
> Thanks goes out to itswindyinthegalaxytonight and mandysimo13 for holding my hand through writing this one. My brain hasn't been working very well lately, you know? What can I say, It's summer and I've been super prolific. The ol' skull mush isn't what it used to be.

Not long after their mutual, messy and furtive public orgasm, the Grand Nimbulor ushered her court into the lyceum in the next room to resume the revelry. Julian bonelessly slid off his lap and Garak couldn’t quite hide a small, self-congratulatory grin as the young man endeavored to find his footing on slightly unsteady legs—although this was short-lived as he caught sight of Julian’s matching expression of amusement as the young man shot a wry glance down at his crotch. Garak scowled and swiftly attempted to compose himself, tugging his tunic down as much as he could over the damning stain. _Well,_ Garak considered, it was somewhat mollifying to find that the doctor seemed to find some humor in their awkward situation rather than looking appalled—or worse yet— _repulsed._

Still, Garak was somewhat reticent to feel _too_ encouraged by Julian’s reaction. Acknowledging some degree of mutual attraction was one thing, but the lovely young man surely couldn’t even begin to grasp the true extent of his feelings, and _that_ revelation, he expected, would definitely be the game changer.   

Regardless, the more pressing concern at present was the embarrassing state of his pants, and fortunately, as the Nimbulor’s entourage was currently busy filing out of the banquet hall, Garak seized on this window of opportunity to bow out of the festivities, making a break for their guest chambers with Julian in tow.

“This is definitely going down in the books as the singularly most peculiar...and frankly mortifying first-contact experience I've ever had,” Julian exclaimed once they were safe behind closed doors.

“I believe that’s a sentiment we both share,” Garak drawled. “Would you mind turning around while I change?”

Julian quirked a wry grin.

“Such modesty.”

Garak decided it would probably be for the best to abstain from retort, but as his companion had yet to obey his request, he shot him a stern look. “Some courtesy would be appreciated,” he reminded the young man.

“ _Prude,_ ” Julian grumbled under his breath. He folded his arms across his chest and complied with some measure of exasperation, sparing Garak his privacy as he quickly slipped out of his soiled pants and tossed off his tunic.

“You know, Doctor, I find it rather ironic that you would have the audacity to call me a prude,” he replied, tying a robe around himself with some intention of making use of a bath at some point before retiring to bed. “I think it’s fair to say I’ve been quite sporting about all of this. You can turn back around now.”

“Are you decent?” Julian asked, sparing a brief, amused glance back over his shoulder.   

“Adequately,” Garak replied with a small bow of gratitude, acknowledging his companion’s good manners.

Julian propped an elbow on the bureau and leaned casually against it with a small, tired sigh. “Actually, Garak, I don’t think you’ve been all _that_ ‘sporting’ about much of anything over the past few days. In case it’s somehow escaped your notice, I’d point out that _I’m_ the one who’s been putting forth the lion’s share of the effort here. All you do is gripe and grouse about...well, pretty much everything. To be perfectly honest, I’m inclined to feel a touch insulted.”

“Mm,” Garak supplied indifferently, perching himself on the arm of the settee while feigning some interest in the craftsmanship of the woodwork.  

“I had no idea it would be such an _arduous_ chore for you to treat me with some small amount of affection,” Julian added a bit petulantly. “You’ve been acting as if you’re ashamed of me.”  

“I think you’re neglecting to see the bigger picture here,” Garak pointed out. “We haven’t the faintest idea how long we might be trapped here, and thanks to your thoughtlessness, we’re stuck 'singing’ so-to-speak for our supper.”

“How dreadful for you,” Julian replied dryly. “You have to convince a few strangers you care for me. What a terrible hardship that must be.”

“You could stand to be a little more grateful,” Garak chided, “I am after all, playing along for your benefit.”

“So you _are_ cross with me,” Julian identified, frowning.

Garak huffed a laugh. “Such an observant creature.”

“I’m sorry if pretending to be my lover is so terribly repellent to you, Garak.”

“Replace ‘repellent’ with ‘inconvenient’,” Garak remarked, pointedly glancing down at the spot on the front of his pants laying over the hamper with a small self-deprecating smirk.  

“You didn’t seem _too_ put out,” Julian chuckled.

“You didn’t seem too put out to ‘put out’,” Garak countered.

“It wasn’t _my_ hand that wandered up between my legs.”

Ah, yes. Well, he did have a point there. (Well…he _quite literally had._ ) Garak smirked a little at his slightly inappropriate, wayward thoughts before reigning himself back in.

“I suppose you hadn’t considered the potential ramifications of making the claim you made. Which, by the way, was without either my consent or approval.”

“Ah, so we’re back to that again,” Julian sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Is that what all that was about back there? Some sort of petty attempt at revenge?”

Garak lifted an eyeridge. “I wouldn’t be too quick to dismiss that interpretation.”

“Look. You know I was in a jam, so I improvised a solution. Good grief, Garak, you saw the way she was pursuing me, I had to do something!” Julian exclaimed. “Besides, it’s afforded us an excuse for being alone together to scheme up a way out of here, and look on the bright side, by playing along it paints you in quite a chivalrous light. Look at you! Out there defending my virtue!”

“As if you have any virtue to defend,” Garak scoffed. “Your head is so full of these insipid fairy tales. You want to play the damsel in distress, Doctor? Perhaps you should recall that I am _not_ , in fact, your ‘knight in shining armor’.”

“Ah, yes,” Julian sighed, rolling his eyes. “You’re the fearsome fire breathing dragon.”

“All I’m saying, Doctor, is you could’ve gone to her bed,” Garak shrugged, feigning indifference. “Oralius knows it would hardly be out of character for you.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Julian demanded, taking offense (as was intended).

“Let’s face it, my dear, you’re not exactly the picture of chastity. I’ve met Deltans with more disciplined libidos.”

“That’s entirely uncalled for!” Julian objected, crossing his arms indignantly across his chest.

“Your reputation around the station speaks for itself. You can’t be unaware of the gossip.”

“Oh? And you believe everything you hear?”

“I’ve no need to rely on hearsay, Doctor. I do happen to have eyes, and they’re more than capable of making their own observations. I’m simply making the point that you missed out on a ripe opportunity to use your promiscuity for the greater good. It’s not as if your standards seem too impressively steep, and besides, objectively speaking, the Nimbulor is passably attractive enough, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps soothing those fiery loins of hers might’ve helped ply us into her good graces and we’d be home already.”  

Julian outright gaped at him. “Are you honestly telling me you’d have no qualms simply whoring me out like I’m just some...piece of meat? _For god’s sake_ , Garak, what the hell is the matter with you?”

“I’m merely stating the facts,” Garak defended. “You’ve thoughtlessly presumed upon me to rescue you from the most trifling of nuisances which, as I’ve illustrated, you could’ve played to our advantage, heedless of my opinion on the matter while somehow magically expecting me to be cheerfully accommodating. I have faith that if you try hard enough, you may just be able to see why I may not be feeling as overly fond of you as usual.”

“I couldn’t have guessed,” Julian muttered.   

“Try to see things from my perspective, Doctor. You’ve effectively trapped me in my very own personal ‘kobiyashi maru’. With regard to this entire, tiresomely trying situation...in terms I’ve heard you express before, I am quite literally ‘damned if I do and damned if I don’t’. I trust you’re intelligent enough to grasp why. Give it some thought. I’m certain you’ll be able to piece it together for yourself in due time.”

Julian’s face pinched into a frown.

“I admit, Garak, I’m genuinely baffled. I’ve always had the highest opinion of your acting abilities. You truly are the consummate liar. In fact, the best I’ve ever personally met...an expert if ever there was one!” He laughed hollowly. “You essentially make it an _art form._ So it truly begs the question: what about this ‘tiresomely trying situation’ as you refer to it as, is so utterly loathsome to you? Have I stumbled across some cultural taboo here? Is it a problem of...I don’t know... _race?_ Are our physiological differences so off-putting to you that the mere concept of being with me is _that_ abhorrent?” he demanded. “Christ, Garak! Is it a matter of sexuality? Do you find the notion of pretending to care for another man truly _that_ revolting? Or...I don’t know, is it just _me_ you’re so revolted by?”

Garak’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You silly, stupid, _vain_ man! Look at you. You’re positively flabbergasted by the very idea that you may have finally encountered the one sentient life form in the entire galaxy that might be capable of resisting your many bountiful charms!” he sneered. “Well, my dear, to my grave misfortune and to the profit of your already obscenely inflated ego, as you can clearly see, I am _not_ immune. Or have you so swiftly forgotten the sorry state of my trousers?”

Julian blinked. “Oh.”

“ _‘Oh’_ is right!” Garak scowled miserably.    

“Then...I suppose these issues I’ve listed do not present any barriers for you?”

“ _‘Barriers’?_ ” Garak parroted, “ _Please._ A... _tailor’s_ life isn’t without its...variety, and I happen to have a rather broad capacity to appreciate beauty in whatever form it presents itself. Although, barring for the occasional exception which I’ll admit has more often been by necessity rather than by preference, the majority of said company is typically of a more...masculine persuasion.”

“So...you prefer men?” Julian asked with a bewildering sort of hesitation.

“Not _...exclusively_ ,” Garak corrected. “It isn’t any hard rule, per say, but on the whole, yes. ”

“Let me get this straight—”

“I’m _not,_ ” Garak interjected a bit impatiently, “Honestly, I’m a little astonished you even have to ask. It isn’t as if I’ve gone to any great lengths to conceal the fact.”

Julian flushed a little. “Well, how should I know? You may as well be a living example of one of your beloved Shoggoth’s enigma tales. So many of your various quirks and mannerisms are just part and parcel to the overall illusion you craft for yourself, Garak.You’re basically a stage magician.”

This couldn’t help but pull a surprised laugh from Garak.

“Quaint analysis, my dear.”

“Seriously, Garak!” Julian exclaimed, impassioned. “Who’s to say what’s an act and what’s not? Who’s to know what’s exaggerated or If there’s ever any actual substance behind the many, diverse personas you manufacture. I mean, is there? Hell, there are so many versions of you I never dare guess which I might encounter next. Everything you say is unreliable and everything you _do_ is unpredictable. You’re a constantly fluctuating variable and it drives me mad! I can’t keep up with you!”

“Ah, and therein lies the problem, my dear Doctor! Perhaps you shouldn’t attempt to in the first place.”

Julian rolled his eyes heavenward as if some invisible entity up there might provide him the answers.

“You’re impossible, Garak,” he sighed, looking a little resentful about it. “I suppose it’s all part of your charm, really. But, if there is one thing about you that _is_ a constant, it’s how frequently you lie to me.”

_Oh, for the love of—_

“ _Julian Bashir!_ ” Garak exclaimed, utterly dumbfounded, “Does your doubt truly even extend into my _bedroom_?”

Julian shrugged. “Among other things...who am I to say? I’ve no certainty about anything where you’re concerned.”

Garak couldn’t help but gape at the idiot. “Some affectations one might contend are universally recognizable.”

Julian gave him a scornful frown. “I don’t put any stock in stereotypes, Garak. Have you never heard the phrase, ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’?”

“Oh, for goodness sake! How do you persist harboring this asinine delusion that everything about me is some grand fabrication when the evidence is quite frankly as plain as the nose on your face!”

“My nose isn’t plain!” Julian objected.

“Comparatively speaking, it is rather,” Garak shrugged, matter-of-fact. “Honestly, Julian. Had you ever the mind to ask around the station, I’m quite certain that among the other colorful slurs and sideways remarks you’d find yourself very readily supplied with, you’d find the collective consensus would happily confirm that I’m...how should I phrase it? By _anyone’s_ estimation, as queer as a clockwork orange, bent as a nine bob note and as soft as a teapot!”

“Personal idiosyncrasies, regardless of the cliched niches one might assign them to, are not necessarily indicative of their assignations.”

“I always do appreciate your academic perspective on such matters,” Garak replied drolly.

“A conversation to be shelved for another time then,” Julian dismissed, perching on the edge of the bed while fixing Garak with a cool, speculative look. “Fine. I’m convinced. And I won’t claim I didn’t suspect as much...which is why I thought you might be finally glad of an excuse to…”

Garak paled. _To...what?!_

“To...you know...do something about it.”

“About precisely _what_ , may I ask?”

Julian smiled a little deviously. “Your...rather pent up frustrations.”

Garak gawked at the man incredulously. “And you thought you’d serve yourself up to me on some great big silver platter? How...magnanimous of you! What a charming offer.”

Not entirely sure whether he was feeling more outraged or mortified, Garak had to turn away from the young man for a second to regain some semblance of composure. Once managing to accomplish this to some degree, he turned back around with a thin, cool smile. “While I admit, your...enumerable charms _are_ indeed beguiling, not _all_ are beguiled.” 

Julian cocked his head, studying him with a small, skeptical smile of his own. “Are you... _sure_ about that, Garak?”

“The height of your arrogance knows no bounds, does it?”  

“Ah, methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

“Truly, you are a _wonder,_ my dear,” Garak marveled. “Please, take your misplaced pity and insert it up that fretfully presumptuous posterior of yours.”

“Surely we can come up with something better to put there,” Julian retorted, grinning back at him suggestively. “You know, this bed we’ve been sharing for the past few days could probably handle a few activities other than catching up on a little lost sleep.”

Garak’s eyes flashed with warning. _Play with fire, little boy, and you’re bound to get burned!_

“Take your prurient pandering to the Nimbulor, I’m sure she won’t disappoint. You’re easy enough to please,” he countered with a smooth, crisp smile.

Julian’s jaw dropped. “Are you taking the piss, Garak?”

“I am not, as you so _eloquently_ stated, ‘taking the piss.’ No more than you were anyway. My goodness, your expressions are as crude as your offers,” Garak admonished. _Fake or otherwise!_ “Find someone else to sing your praises, my dear, you’ve never had tremendous trouble doing so in the past.”

“Are you...obliquely calling me a slut?”

“Linearly,” Garak replied coolly.

“I can accept if you’re cross with me, but now you’re being needlessly offensive. When have I ever excoriated you so mercilessly?” Julian demanded, confrontationally stalking toward him with fists clenched at his sides. For a moment, Garak removed himself from the situation, evaluating it objectively. Were Julian anyone else, he was sure the man would’ve taken a swing at him by now.

“There is a kindness to be found in honesty.”

“If that’s the case, then really, Garak. I think you’ve been far too ’kind’ already.”

“I agree. I have been. And that’s the problem. You expect a great deal more from me than you're willing to return.”

Ah, _honesty sets you free..._ Garak sighed, not actually buying that.

“That’s unfair Garak.”

“Is it, my dear? Well, perhaps it is time I cure you of your insufferable optimism.”

“Well, you’re doing a damned decent job,” Julian commended through gritted teeth. There was a spark of hurt in his expression that Garak had to turn away from. “Please, go on. Don’t stop on my account.”

“You’re a very intelligent man, but perhaps you’re not a very bright one.”

“Clarify.”

“Very well. Let me pose a scenario that may be more accessible to you. Jadzia Dax is a very attractive woman, wouldn’t you say, Doctor?”

“I wouldn't disagree.”

“Of course not. Only a blind man or a fool would. Now, you are dear friends with the good lieutenant, are you not?”

“Of course. You know I am, Garak.”

“And your friend is someone who you could be or have been attracted to, am I correct?”

“That’s never exactly been a secret,” Julian replied, growing a bit exasperated.  

“Now, using this exact scenario we find ourselves in, let’s suppose we put Jadzia in your shoes and let’s put you in mine. Would you not find yourself appalled if dear Jadzia presumed upon your good nature and gentle affection for you by… figuratively rubbing your nose in it? Would you not question her dedication to the maintenance of your friendship?”

“Yes, Garak, thank you for holding my hand throughout this whole _‘convoluted’_ analogy you've drawn up, I am sure I would not be able to arrive at the desired conclusion without your prodigal assistance.”

“Then if the dilemma does not escape you and you can empathize with such a plight, then I can only posit one theory. You are an insensitive and self serving man.”

“Am I insensitive to your 'good nature and gentle affection?’ to the fact that you 'could be or have been’ attracted to me? No, Garak, I’m not insensitive, I’m pragmatic. I have calculated every option at my disposal and this scenario posed the least offensive of the potential consequences. It’s called making the best of a bad situation.”

Garak sucked in a breath, feeling wretched and raw.

“Ah, my dear automaton,” he chuckled darkly. “It was a self serving decision you made with the potential result of ruining a friendship. And yet still, you opted for it. That, my dear, suggests you value our friendship very little indeed. I admit I’m disappointed in you, Doctor. I had a higher opinion of your character. I can see you’ve mislead me successfully once again.”

Julian was silent, watching him pace across the rug. Garak hated it. He hated the way Julian sat on the edge of the bed watching him as if taking in some sort of performance.

 _Ah,_ it was miserable to feel this exposed!

“Perhaps I’ve taught you well after all. And to my disadvantage I’m afraid. It’s truly a shame. For me of course. You always were a most promising protege. Alas, I am without anything left to impart to you, and thus, I will leave you with my congratulations, and this will I believe, sadly have to suffice as our farewell, for, if and when we return, I think it will be highly improbable we’ll be likely to speak again.”

“Alas, poor Atlas!,” Julian sarcastically exclaimed, his eyes shining wildly. “You are but one man and the world is far too heavy for you to bear!”

“I would share the burden but I wouldn’t dream of imposing.”

“Never! What is Job but a glut for punishment!”

“Very well, Doctor,” Garak grinned coldly. “If you're going to be petty then I can be as well. How about I _don't_ continue to play along? How about I confess that our love is a sham and I feed you to the wolves? And by that I mean those gracious grape friends of ours.”

“You know what? By all means, Garak, go ahead. Then I won’t have to sit here and suffer any more of this unwarranted abuse you've seen fit to sling at me,” Julian huffed. “I honestly don’t know why you’re even throwing such a tantrum! This whole argument is absurd and completely unnecessary.”

“Ah, but you make a feint I can too simply deflect. You make as if you’re the wronged party, and yet, you fail to play victim with much conviction. Clear prevarication! You and I both know which one of us is the guilty party here, Doctor.”

Julian threw back his head and laughed.

“You find something amusing, my dear? Why don’t you share with the class?”

Julian wiped away a tear of mirth and shook his head. “How utterly _invigorating_ it is to see _you,_ Garak, the very sycophant of sophistry and veritable virtuoso of vigilance _himself_ failing _abominably_ to see what’s right in front of his face!” he fumed, jumping up to his feet with eyes flashing angrily. “How _clumsy_ you’ve become in your bitter self righteousness that you _dare_ defend as sentiment!”

Garak found himself unable to resist feeding off the passion his companion was exuding in droves and charged with a renewed sense of the very self-righteousness he’d been accused of, stalked forward, meeting the insolent young man face-to-face.

“How proud you must feel for finally figuring me out,” Garak smirked.

“Oh, I’m quite sure if I haven’t, I’m certainly beginning to.”

“And what precisely do you think you’ve managed to ascertain?” Garak inquired, feigning the steeliest of exteriors while inwardly beginning to panic.

“That you, my friend, are scared,” Julian replied with the evenest confidence.  

This time, Garak found himself laughing, genuinely amused. “How the mighty have fallen, indeed!” he exclaimed in theatrical self-reproach. “The pupil becomes the master and the master is at last reduced to the neophyte! Oh, the ignominy! Nail me to the pillory!”

“You evoke a provocative image. Perhaps one we should revisit sometime,” Julian hissed through his teeth, taking a step toward Garak in a manner that was some cross between antagonizing and predatory.

“Don’t tease me doctor, can’t you see you’ve already debased me to little more than the most miserable of kicked and quivering kits?” Garak simpered playfully. “I _implore_ you, show your poor and simple servant a sliver of mercy!” _Bridge the gap. Kiss me. Hit me. Anything,_ he silently dared.

Julian's eyes darted back and forth gauging him for a long second, before coming to some kind of conclusion.

He stepped back.

“ _Ah,_ Sisyphus, you melodramatic martyr, go sit on your rock,” Julian snorted, brushing him off with a small, somewhat affectionate grin.

“I might consider sitting on my rock, but first, if you would kindly spare me the smallest of courtesies and refrain from belittling me long enough to arrive at whatever point you’re feebly endeavoring to make, I truly would be _much_ obliged.”

“Read between the lines. It’s what you always make me do.”

“How very petty of you,” Garak sniffed.

“Only serving you up a taste of your own medicine, Garak. Bitter isn’t it? Frankly, I think you just want to hear me say it.”

 _Say what?!_ Garak greedily yearned to know, barely resisting the urge to strangle it out of the little bastard.

“Can you really begrudge an old man a little charity every now and again?”

Julian pretended to consider this.

“Actually, I find I’m surprisingly quite able to,” he chirped back.

Exhausted by the circles they were running in, Garak dragged a hand down his face and breathed out a defeated laugh. “Why am I not surprised? _Truly,_ the most tremendous error I’ve made with you over the years is how extravagantly I’ve indulged you; spoiling you with attention, lavishing you with praise—”

“ _Tch!_ ” Julian scoffed.  

“— _Patiently_ keeping my hands folded in my lap as I watched you lark about with this tramp or that,” Garak pressed on, “All vapid, dull creatures with nary a braincell to be found inside those pretty, shallow little heads of theirs, _all_ utterly unworthy of you, and yet I kept silent all the while because I knew at the end of the day, once you were spent of your lust you’d exchange them in and return to me to get your fix of that scintillating post-coital pillow talk you longed for, and _never_ once, throughout this entire time, have I ever expected a single thing from you in return, always pretending to be satisfied with the merest scraps you could scrape of yourself together for me, but I had _hoped,_ Julian, that if I couldn’t find some way to somehow convince you that there wasn’t any need for anyone _else_ to fill the gap between your sheets and our lunch table, that I might’ve at least earned some modicum of your respect.”   

“Well you certainly paint me into quite the heartless, philandering villain, Garak,” Julian remarked, scowling. “I won’t deny I’ve played the field a little, who hasn’t? And besides, why shouldn’t I? More to the point, what business is it of yours?”

“Apparently, as you’ve just made abundantly clear to me, it isn’t any of my business,” Garak replied, failing to keep his tone as perfectly even as he’d intended.

Julian deflated some, looking a little lost. “ _Garak,_ you never exactly made it very clear to me whether you wanted it to be.”

“Well, I’ve had a change of heart on the matter,” Garak supplied, ignoring the way Julian’s eyes briefly lit up in response to this. “Especially considering our escape from this backwards planet might depend on it...although, perhaps we should put that in the past tense, as you rather sabotaged that particular option.”

Whatever had momentarily buoyed the young man was quickly quelled.

“Oh, I sincerely doubt _all_ hope is lost,” Julian bit out. “Why, I’m sure we can feign some sort of melodramatic lover’s quarrel and the Nimbulor will happily console me afterward.”

“I haven’t the slightest doubt she would,” Garak agreed.

“Alright. So let me get this straight. You have no problem if I _fuck_ someone with some ulterior motive in mind, but heaven forbid I choose to of my own accord,” Julian drawled. “What comedic irony, Garak! Here you are going on about how I don’t respect _you,_ and here you are, claiming I’m just some _trollop_ anyway so why not hop into some stranger’s bed, after all, what am I but a means to an end? Christ, how dare my self-respect get in the way of your ability to return to your rocking chair and needlework!”

“I...don’t have a rocking chair,” Garak rather pointlessly pointed out.

“You don’t need one. Hell, you’ve already found yourself a perch haven’t you? Sitting aloft in your aerial throne, sneering down at me with contempt as if you’re some high, moral authority,” Julian snarled. “Have you ever heard the expression that ‘those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones’?”

“If you’re quite finished with your little tirade, perhaps you’ll allow me to assuage you of this deplorable misapprehension you happen to belabor under. I don’t particularly relish the thought of you sleeping with the Nimbulor and I certainly wouldn’t encourage you to, especially considering how vocally you object to the thought. There. Does that satisfy some degree of your grievance with me?”

Julian huffed a short, dark laugh. “Oh, of course, consider us square, Garak.”

Garak sighed tiredly, rubbing a hand across his forehead ridges. “Perhaps I’ve spoken a bit regrettably-”

“Try _‘spitefully’_ ,” Julian supplied.

“ _Regardless_ ,” Garak continued firmly, “I’ll remind you that my irritation with you hasn’t been unjustified.”

Julian stared at him flatly. “Have you ever heard the expression, ‘cry me a river’?”

Garak was done. His heart ached and he wasn't sure it wouldn't for a very long time.

“Well, my dear, it certainly has been a delight engaging in this enchanting repartee with you,” he bit out. “Truly, you _are_ a treat, but I really do think I’d best be off now to see an attendant about arranging for some separate quarters for the evening. Goodnight.”

Julian lurched forward, grabbing his wrist and Garak cornered back around on him with a scathing glare. “Pray, what exactly do you think you’re doing?” He demanded, tone as icy as the paper thin line of his smile.   

“You would go to your grave with a lie on your lips if you could,” Julian accused, looking harried and verging on desperate. “Everything you say is wrapped in pretty metaphors and careful self-exclusive analogies. I have just as much at stake, Garak, don’t ask me to do what you can’t.”

Garak saw their entire relationship flash in a stream through his mind before he came to his decision.

There would be no recovering his pride after this and worse, it would likely be the death knell for their friendship. It wouldn’t be as cleanly cleaved a thing as he would’ve preferred, but then again, it wasn’t as if he’d ever expected the end to be anything but messy and grim.

Julian’s doleful eyes cut him to the quick and Garak inwardly groaned. He did indeed loathe honesty—nothing ever good came from it, but, at this final juncture, he felt wrung through the wringer and tireder than he’d ever been. He loved this man in the only way he knew how, and that was _obsessively_ —with terror and desperation and a tenderness he couldn't _begin_ to put words to. And then, before he knew it, he was telling him as much—

“—I sincerely doubt you have as much at stake. You want me to be more explicit? Very well. I will paint you a vivid picture from my perspective. I am alone. I have very few friends and none truer than you and I cherish you dearly. To me, you are of utter necessity. Without you, I live but a half-life waiting for the moment when I might see you again, always wondering when you might deign to remember me and drop by. I always hope to run into you in the promenade or in the hallways of the habitat ring, and for the sake of full disclosure, more than half the time you _do_ bump into me in passing it’s because I have meticulously engineered the encounter because I watched and waited and mapped your paths, committing them to heart. I spend far too much time planning what I will say to you the next time I see you, running through countless scenarios in my head, thinking of all the clever ways I can pique and suspend your attention for just a little longer than the time before. Nothing thrills me more than to capture your interest, Julian, and nothing gladdens me more than to be the cause of your smile. And to see the way your eyes genuinely reflect your pleasure so I know it’s genuine and I know it’s for me. I covet every single one. Your joy is my joy, when you suffer I suffer and when you ache it is a literal, physical torment for me not to reach for you. I would hold you, comfort you, kill for you and very likely die for you if I had to. Every moment in your company buoys me. Every lunch we share is the highlight of my week. Your wit and your charm brighten my day no matter how grim it's been, whatever unpleasantry I’ve endured vanishes in your company. In a sense, it’s as if you removed the implant from my skull, took away all the artificial release of endorphins but insidiously snuck in something of your own design, thus transferring one hopeless, euphoric addiction for another. You allow me to touch you, and that's more than I could ask for. It was more than I could hope for. And I could tell you for hours how much more I want to do than touch, but I think you can fill in the blanks for yourself.” The truth pouring out of him felt like it was pulling down the chassis of his very soul and Garak found himself having to reach out a hand to the dresser to steady himself and keep himself standing. “What can I say Julian? I live in constant admiration of you. You are everything I desire, inside and out and it terrifies me because I am a selfish man and I'm going to want to keep you and I know I can't. Frankly, my dear, I have exhausted every avenue within my capacity to express this very sentiment to you, even at the very real peril of losing you, and thus, at this point, I am left with only two conclusions. Either you are too kind or too cowardly to give me the courtesy of a proper rejection or you may very well be truly a blithering idiot.”

Garak collapsed down on the edge of the furthest corner of the bed and buried his face in the palms of his hands for a long moment as he worked to reclaim some mastery back over himself. Drawing in a long breath, he straightened up and dared a glance over at his...rather _shellshocked_ companion, preparing himself for his inevitable reaction, whatever it might be.

He tried not to anticipate it, neither daring to hope nor fearing the worst, but the most frustrating part of this was the whole _waiting_ bit and the fact that, for all his keen observation skills, for once he couldn’t read a damned thing as Julian sat there silently, attempting to process this entirely unexpected and unrehearsed, torrential confession he’d made.

Garak inwardly cringed at himself as it dawned on him what he’d just done. _What in Iloça's seven sigils had he been thinking?!_

How could he have betrayed himself like this? Not once had he thought to himself: _Abort! Abort! Cease! Desist! Escape, you imbecile!_

No, _instead,_ he’d rendered himself utterly vulnerable, stupidly spilling every last carefully guarded secret; not only exposing his heart but abandoning it entirely to his beloved’s mercy.

“Garak,” Julian finally said, drawing back his attention from the tumult storming inside of him. “I don't know what could've possibly given you the impression you couldn't tell me before. I thought I'd given you enough hints for you to know I wouldn't have minded.”

“You...wouldn't have minded,” Garak flatly parroted, not entirely able to discern what that meant.

“Not even a little bit,” Julian confirmed softly, reaching forward and bridging the gap between them. Garak peered down reticently at the reassuring hand resting gently on his arm and back up at the young man’s disarmingly sweet smile.  

“In fact,” Julian continued, courage gathering in his tone, “You might say I would've welcomed the knowledge.”

“For clarity’s sake, in what tense are we speaking?”   

“Present,” Julian confirmed. “I never thought I’d have to spell it out for you. You’re usually a bit quicker than that.”

“Perhaps a little less so in these affairs,” Garak admitted.

“I can see that,” Julian noted wryly. “I’d like to draw your attention to the fact that a few of your harsher accusations were without merit. At least of late. In case it’s escaped your notice, my bed’s been quite cold for awhile now. I was rather hoping you’d be interested in helping me address that problem.”

Garak couldn’t help a small, pained wince. “Truly, my dear, if that’s how you seduce all your conquests, it’s a mystery to me how you ever succeed.”

Julian gave him a nonplussed frown. “First of all, _rude._ Second of all, you could never be some mere notch on my bedpost, Garak.”

“You can understand where you’re concerned, I hesitate to jump to any conclusions,” Garak defended. “So perhaps you might deign to enlighten me. What are you hoping for from me?”

“Whatever you’re willing to give,” Julian replied simply.

“Why?” Garak insisted, quite having forgotten that cute Terran warning about not looking gift-horses in their mouths.

Julian shook his head, smiling at him with the fondest exasperation. “And here I’ve feared I’ve been so frightfully obvious that surely you couldn’t possibly have failed to figure it out,” he chuckled, cruelly keeping Garak in dreadful, stomach knotting suspense.

“And what exactly is it that I’m meant to have figured out?” Garak nudged, trying very hard to keep the nail-biting impatience he was suffering from creeping too transparently into his tone.

Julian narrowed his eyes at him a bit skeptically. “Do you seriously not know?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you insufferable boy,” Garak exclaimed, “If you don’t either tell me you love me as madly as I love you and kiss me already then I’ll very likely spontaneously combust out of sheer anxiety and you’ll have quite the mess on your hands.”

“Not exactly the type of mess on my hands I’d prefer to have,” Julian remarked with a toothy wry grin, "But if it’s any comfort, medically speaking, spontaneous combustion is highly improbable.”

Garak lifted a rather unimpressed eyeridge and Julian relented with a long sigh.

“Fine. You’ve got me pinned in a corner. I love you. There. Are you satisfied?”

Satisfied?

_Satisfied?_

No, Garak wasn’t ‘satisfied’. The universe may as well have flared to life with a million new stars. The warmth of a thousand solar flares coursed through his veins. He wasn’t satisfied...he was _exultant!_ Transported to a higher plain of happiness than he’d ever before felt or dared dreamt to feel.

He wasn’t entirely sure which one of them initiated the first kiss, but it hardly mattered as he lost himself in the glorious, elating sensation of the blushed bow of those long longed for lips slotting against his own, nearly embarrassing himself with a small choked groan as he luxuriated in the blessed warmth of his beloved wrapped finally _finally_ in his arms.

Julian broke away a bit breathlessly, gazing back at him with sparkling eyes and a smile to match.

“Now that we’ve finally gotten this settled, would you care to join me for a bath?”

Julian waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “That's an offer you won't hear me refusing.”

“Excellent,” Garak smirked, “Because I really will require your assistance strategizing a new scheme to get us back to the station and in my experience, a nice warm bath always seems to work like a charm for a good productive session of brainstorming.”

Julian gave him a sideways grin. “Not exactly the type of activity I'd expected you to suggest, but alright. Strange idea of foreplay you have there, Garak.”

“Actually, you might think this is sentimental of me or even 'prudish’ if you must, but I was rather hoping our first time together might be more meaningful if it were shared in...a somewhat more private, personal setting.”

Julian groaned. “You're serious, aren't you.”

“Call it...an incentive,” Garak suggested.

“Alright. I'll try to behave myself. But...no promises,” Julian grinned. 

Garak found himself wearing a matching one in return. “I would expect nothing less from you, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC, darlings, TBC.


End file.
